Short Sam Story
by OldNarnian
Summary: Pre-series! When Sam decides to leave home for university, his family is hurt. But Sam can't keep living this way. One-shot


Sam looked up at his dad in disgust, standing on the threshold of their room. He was drooling and his hair was unwashed, the long finger nails were ragged and dirty. Not to mention the rest of his hands. There was dried blood caked on his clothes and he reeked like alcohol and day-old sweat.

John Winchester slammed the door behind him and dropped his duffle bag on the floor. It clucked heavily, a loose knife spilling out. The noise echoed through the dingy motel room before suffocating silence closed in again.

"Hey, Dad." Sam's older brother Dean offered hesitantly from the lumpy pull-out bed he was sprawled across. "How'd the hunt go? Werewolf, right?"

John glared, remaining silent as he moved to the sink.

They hadn't seen their dad in days, he had dubbed the hunt too dangerous for the brothers and tramped off alone to kill whatever monster he could. Now that he was back, it was like he had never left.

Sam felt a burning in the back of his throat as he tried to focus on the textbook in front of him. He didn't know what it was about his dad… but every time he was around, it was like he couldn't breathe. The man was always suffocating him.

"Dad…" Sam blurted out suddenly, his stomach all twisted up in nervous knots, his fingers tapping on the large textbook that had cost him the new pair of shoes he had badly needed.

John looked up from where he was leaning over the grimy motel sink. "What?" He hissed. "I'm tired, can't it wait, boy?"

Sam wanted to tell him that it could, that it didn't matter and to forget it. But as he looked into his dads dark eyes, blurred with the drunken annoyance at Sam even opening his mouth, he knew he needed out.

"Dad…" Sam held his breath for a second. "I'm leaving."

Silence.

Dean's head shot up from where he was reading an old car magazine on the couch, his mouth forming a perfect 'oh' and his eyes filled with unchecked shock and fear.

John's face didn't show any emotion. Sam hated how he could turn them off and pretend everything was going his way.

He turned away from Sam and started running questionable looking water in the sink.

"Dad, did you hear me?" Sam said again. "I'm leaving."

John picked up a cup and started filling it up. "Where'd you think you're goin?" He asked gruffly.

"University." Sam said, the word felt beautiful on his lips but it wasn't stopping the panic that was slowly building in his chest. He looked wildly around the room, trying to find a lifeline for this conversation. Dean was frozen and his dad wasn't… wasn't reacting.

"No. You're not." John said.

Those three word broke Sam. Even though he had been anticipating them, his anger surged. He counted to three in his head before he responded.

"_Yes_, I am. I've been accepted into Stanford University with a scholarship. Full ride, Dad. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me and-"

He was cut off by the cup John had been holding flying past his head and smashing against the wall. The sound of glass shattering masked Sam's sharp intake of breath.

Dean was standing now, in between the two, Sam hadn't even seen him get up from the bed. "Dad… don't." He said warningly, his voice flat. Sam was surprised he even went that far, Dean idolized their dad. Following every order and almost never crossing the man or risking making him angry, except when it came to Sam. Dean always put Sam first.

John shoved Dean roughly to the side to face Sam head-on. "You can't go." He snarled at Sam.

"Why not?" Sam stood up now to face his dad. "Why can't I leave?"

"Because I said so! You wouldn't be safe there!" John said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I wouldn't safe?" Sam almost laughed at the irony. "I wouldn't be _safe_? I'm not safe here!"

John looked hurt but Sam couldn't even feel sorry. He was too far in to stop this avalanche of words spilling from his mouth and his heart. Sam needed to leave like he needed to breathe.

"It's not safe driving around everywhere, staying in disgusting motels, eating poisoned food and _hunting your monsters_."

"They killed your mother." John interrupted, playing his ultimate guilt card.

"I never knew her!" Sam yelled, his mother had died in a fire over his cradle when he was only six months old. The work of demons, his dad insisted… some monster that must be killed for revenge. "Is this how you honor her memory? Never giving her kids a real life? Putting them on deaths door every day or abandoning them for weeks at a time?"

"Sam…" Dean put a hand on his chest and pushed him back a few steps, kicking the chair Sam had been sitting on out of the way. "Cool it." He whispered.

John was shaking.

"I'm protecting you boys!" He yelled. "You need to know how to survive."

"I want to go to school." Sam said, softer, Dean was still gripping the front of his shirt, ready to hold him back if worst came to worst. "Doesn't that matter to you at all? Do you only see me as a solider now?" He wasn't expecting John to feel bad or let him go at all, but that wasn't going to stop him. He had planned for this.

"Doesn't family mean anything to you?" John demanded. "You're just going to leave your brother and I to do all the dirty work? The family business, Sammy."

"Don't call me that." Sam spat. The second his dad started talking about family, Sam knew he had lost. He stepped back from Dean, never breaking eye contact with his dad. He picked up his own duffle bag by the door and the extremely worn backpack. A stab of regret pierced his heart as he glanced over his shoulder.

"I'm going. And I'm not apologizing for it either. I need my own life."

Dean looked destroyed. Like he was unable to speak.

Sam flung the backpack over his shoulder.

"You walk out that door, you ain't _never_ coming back." John yelled, getting the last word in as Sam's hand touched the doorknob.

Sam froze, his hand on the doorknob. If he turned around, he would see his dad… the man breathing heavily and his face red. John wasn't joking and even in his drunken state of mind, Sam knew this was set in stone in his mind.

Not even being able to turn around, Sam sighed and opened up the door. The soft click of it shutting behind him was louder than a gunshot, ringing in his ears.

Sam adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and started walking. He was going to go to school, to do something with his life and not end up as a nameless corpse in an empty field. And he definitely wasn't going to be someone's… or some_thing's_ food.

Every step he took he left a pound of anxiety and anger behind him. At the moment, he didn't care if he never saw John again.

As he walked his thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of the impala. His dads most prized possession and the nicest muscle car in the world, in Dean's opinion. A home to them all for as long as Sam could remember. They didn't have a house and never stayed in a town more than a few months before moving off to the next hunt. The next town. The next horror story.

The sleek black car rolled up beside him and slowly kept his pace.

"Go away, Dean." Sam said coldly. Maybe a little hurt at the lack of help he received from his brother during the fight. "I'm actually leaving. You can't make me stay anymore."

"I know." Dean answered, so quietly Sam almost didn't hear him. "I'm going to drive you."

"I'll walk." Sam said stiffly.

"To Stanford?" Dean asked, slight teasing in his voice. "Let me drop you off at the train station."

Sam kept walking, eyes forward.

"Get in the car, Sammy." Dean sighed. He put the car in park as Sam heaved a great sigh and slumped over to the passenger seat.

"Don't call me Sammy." He said as he slipped into his seat.

"Sure thing… Sammy." Dean grinned wildly as Sam rolled his eyes.

The engine roared as Dean raced forward. The two brothers didn't speak. They had spent every day since Sam was born together. Dean had basically raised Sam. He had raised him to be smart and strong and determined.

Sam knew Dean wouldn't say that he wanted Sam to stay or that he wished he wouldn't fight with their dad. He wouldn't mention their mom and he wouldn't let any emotion other than cheeky humor surface.

The silence was nice to Sam, but Dean reached over and flicked on the radio.

Guitar riffs, rhythmic banging of drums and a rough, raspy singing voice filled all the empty spaces of the car.

Leaning his head on the head rest and closing his eyes, Sam thought about what he actually meant by leaving.

John had said he was never coming back, and as long as he stood by it, Sam wasn't going to offer his hand in a peace agreement. They would just have to live without him for a little bit before John broke and asked Sam to come back home.

The arrived at the train station much too soon for Sam's liking. He was feeling uneasy and suddenly hesitant.

Dean cut the engine. He filled his cheeks with air and slowly let it out in a long drag.

"Are you sure?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah… Dean… I'm positive."

"Okay…" Dean whispered. He kicked open his door and strode to the ticket window. When he came back he was smiling again. "Here ya go." He handed a ticket to Sam.

"Dean, you didn't-"

"Alright, rules." Dean ignored Sam. "First, no being a dork, okay? Go out and have fun, go to parties and think of me when you start puking in the bushes. Second!" He yelled as Sam tried to cut in again. "Bang a couple hot chicks for me, okay?"

"Dean, gross." Sam interrupted, blushing. "I'm going to study… that's what school is for."

"Third of all, study hard, man." Dean slapped his shoulder. "And don't worry me and dad… we'll… we'll be fine."

"Thanks, Dean." Sam's heart was growing heavier with every word that passed Dean's lips.

"Your train will be here in fifteen minutes. Want me to wait with you?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, not wanting to look too desperate to have a few more minutes with his best friend.

They waited, the night air was cool but not bitter. The late summer sky was open and vast, never ending in its art and poetry.

When the train pulled up and screeched to a halt, Dean stood up and dusted off his jeans nervously.

"This isn't as much as I would like but… here." Dean shoved an envelope into Sam's hand.

"I don't want your money." Sam said gently. "Especially because it's stolen."

"It's not stolen-" Dean cut himself off. "Have fun, Sam. Call me if you ever need anything."

Sam pulled Dean into a hug. Dean allowed the embrace for a few seconds the pushed him off.

"Alright, alright… no chick flick moments, okay?" He grinned weakly. "You don't have to go, but if you want to, you have to go now."

Sam nodded and turned away. He climbed onto the train and found a seat. It was pretty empty considering the late evening. He sat down and as the train lurched forward, he smiled. It finally felt like freedom. The guilt he felt with Dean melted away and disappeared. Sam pulled his bags close and opened up the envelope from Dean.

He rolled his eyes at the amount of cash that had been stuffed in. Some of it must have been stolen from dad's wallet too, which meant it was stolen twice to end up in his hands.

No matter how many times Sam protested the credit card scams or the hustling at the pool tables, his dad and Dean kept at it. It came into use now but after this money was gone, Sam was going to work and get honest money. He was going to live an honest life and live a normal life. Studying hard and making real friends… just like he always wanted.


End file.
